Wandering this Lonely Earth
by Ironic-Swag
Summary: "You know how travelling the globe gets lonely?"


_Prompt: Wanderlust._

 _Fandom: No 6_

 _Word Count: 1483_

 _Rating: T for a large amount of cursing. Don't blame me, blame Nezumi!_

 _Pairing: Nezumi/Shion (Nezushi)_

The Spanish hostel is empty, except for one solitary figure alone on a green cot in the corner. He has his head in the clouds, with headphones in, blocking out everyone. He quietly bobs his head to the beat, eyes closed with bliss.

"Fuck it all!" A crude, loud voice cries with frustration.

The other figure's eyes snap open suddenly, irate at having been disturbed. He eyes the other man warily, as he struggles with setting up his makeshift bed. He suddenly traps his fingers in one of the fold out legs, and yells with pain.

"Fuck this!" He yells, throwing the bed on the floor, then stands with his arms folded, glaring at the bed furiously. He looks so much like a sulking toddler that the other man cannot help but laugh.

The man on the bed's mouth quirks upwards in an amused smile, watching the other man curiously.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" The angry man asks him, noticing him for the first time.

"I could help you with that, you know."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Uh, because I'm a decent person?"

Without having received a response, the white-haired man removed his earphones and walked to the other bed, a spring in his step. It takes him five minutes and twelve seconds to unfold the bed, and get it set up in a way that won't squash him while he sleeps.

"There. Problem solved." He says, as he steps from the completed bed.

He wait a beat or two for a thanks, but upon receiving none he begins to walk back to his bed, preparing to write a lot of negativity about him to his mother. But, as he walks away, he hears a quiet 'thanks', and smiles genuinely.

They meet again in Spain, the black-haired man staring at a map trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here. He could have sworn he was in Paris five minutes ago, so where the hell was he now?

"Ici." A familiar voice says, pointing to a spot on his map with his finger.

"What?" The blond man, Nezumi, asks, having not knowing any French.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were French. You're here." He says, pointing to the same spot again. "You looked lost. Hey, didn't we meet in Spain?"

"Yeah, in that hostel."

"I made your bed for you." He smiled wickedly as he spoke.

"You did." He grumbled quietly. "You don't need to remind me though."

The white-haired man laughed, a musical, infectious laugh that got the other man giggling too.

"Are you planning to head to Belgium next?" The white haired man, Shion, asks, and adds upon getting a nod; "Hey, me too! Maybe we'll see each other again? You're going to Brussels, right? The twenty-ninth of September, one-thirty pm. Meet me at the Hotel de Ville."

"Why, exactly?" The taller man looks at him, barely concealed amusement on his face.

"Well, you know how travelling the globe gets lonely?" Nezumi nods in response. "That's why."

Nezumi shrugs as Shion wanders off, not seeming to have any real destination. As he watches him wander, he suddenly realises how painful it is to be so alone on such a large place.

"Waar…" Nezumi squinted at his hand, trying to read the scribbled writing. "Waar Hotel De Ville?"

"Toerist?" The confused woman looks back in return, and Nezumi, assuming it was what it sounded like, nodded. "Henry! Toerist, helpen."

Another confused looking man pops his head round the corner of the house, suddenly seeming to understand, seeing the very British-looking Nezumi.

"Oh. Hotel De Ville, yes?" Nezumi nodded noiselessly in response. "Left, down street ten minutes, three rights and straight in front of you. You have map, no?"

Nezumi suddenly recalled the moment he lost his map, leaning on the bridge's edge in order to figure out where he was, when a sudden gust of wind blew the damn thing right out of his hands into the choppy, cold water. That had been two days ago, and now, getting lost more often than not, he was regularly forced to speak the native tongue. How the hell he was going to get to this Hotel place in twenty minutes was beyond him.

So he shakes his head, refusing to verbally respond; he knows barely a line of Danish, so trying to explain why he did not have a map was way beyond his skills.

"Take this one." The man tells him, handing him a folded up square of paper, then ambles back into his house. "Uvidende Amerkaner."

"Oi!" The same, now quite offended voice of his 'friend' yells behind him. "Ikke uvidende Amerkaner! Dygtig!" ( _Not ignorant American! Smart!_ )

"Skrald." ( _Rubbish._ ) The Danish man scoffs, shutting his front door and locking it.

"You know, it helps to know other languages sometimes." Shion winks, discreetly sliding a Danish to English dictionary back in his bag.

"Whatever." Nezumi turns his back on him, heading in the direction he was informed.

"You're going the wrong way." Shion informs him, ambling alongside him.

"You don't know where I'm going." Nezumi pulls out his map and indeed, he had been told the wrong directions. Embarrassment clouding his face, he spins on his heel and changes direction.

"Where do you live?" Shion eventually asks him, wandering next to him.

"England."

"Where in England?" Shion beams at him. "I live in London."

"Me too."

"Really?!" Shion jumps excitedly. "Maybe we can meet up back in England."

"I am never going back there." Nezumi growls angrily, grabbing Shion's arm. "Never."

"Okay…" Shion mumbles into his sleeve, looking at him with fearful eyes.

"So then I told them, I told them to fuck off!" Shion giggled, as they sat on the floor opposite each other, a forgotten game of Monopoly between them. "It felt so good, just quitting like that! I took out a loan, then decided to travel for a good month. I'm on day twenty-three. I'm going home in a week."

"Really?" Nezumi asks, disappointed though he'd never admit it. "Do you have family back home?"

"My mum's back home, but no one else." He sighs forlornly. "I do miss her."

"Oh. Mummy's boy, are we?"

"Is that really a bad thing? Liking my mother?"

"I mean, if you're clingy about it." Nezumi shrugs. "I don't remember my parents."

"Why?"

"They died when I was three, I was sent into foster care. Not a nice place to be." He shrugs, taking a deep swig of whiskey. "I was out of there as soon as possible."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Shion offers, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "My father died when I was very young too. I understand what you feel."

"Thanks." Nezumi sighs, half-heartedly climbing into bed as Shion packs away the game. He can feel the alcohol numbing his senses. "Are you gay?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Shion asks, flicking the light off.

"I dunno. That's good, because I think you're cute."

"What?" Shion questions, but Nezumi's already out.

"Good morning sunshine!" Nezumi is woken to at seven am. That, and the curtains being thrown open, bright sunlight blinding him. "Have a nice night?"

"How much did I drink?" He slurs, attempting to get up but thinking better of it.

"Don't know. At _least_ a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka. Probably more." Shion says as he makes the bed. "We've got a _lovely_ day of walking planned."

"I hate you."

"Nope, you love me." Shion grins conspiratorially at him. "Remember what you said last night?"

"Fuck." He runs his memory through with a fine-tooth comb. _Good, because I think you're cute._ "So that's what the look you've been giving me all morning is."

"Because I think you're hot too?"

Nezumi promptly chokes on nothing, coughing from shock. Not the answer he expected.

"What?!"

"Did you not hear me? I said-"

"I heard what you said! So, what? We're gonna go out now?"

"Why not?" Shion looks genuinely hurt as he says this.

"Well…" Nezumi can't think of anything. "What about going back home? I don't want to go back to that place."

"We don't have to!" Shion says excitedly. "We can keep travelling. We may never go home."

"Okay, you child." Nezumi smiles as he shakes his head. "Let's go."

"We have to go back to England." Nezumi says, getting a shocked look from Shion. "You have a life back there. You have family. Countless possible jobs. You can't just pack up and leave it all behind. Not when there's people that care about you."

"Part of me needed to hear you say that running away was a bad idea." Shion mumbles after a minute.

"Let's go home together." Nezumi smiles at him, and they link hands.

For a brief, serene moment, everything is okay.


End file.
